Chapter 2: The Expedition

A week later, Altaa and Batu assembled an expedition team of three: Enkhee, a cartographer with expertise in hostile terrain; Saruul, a biologist who specializes in extreme conditions; and Oyun, a former explorer turned drone pilot.

The mission was simple in theory: locate the source of the signals, assess the environment and return with data. But everyone knew that electromagnetic storms and the hostile environment of the Gobi would make every step a struggle.

The Earthship, an armored tank with magnetic wheels, drove into the dunes under a perpetually cloudy sky. Altaa sat in the center of the vehicle, adjusting the monitors that received the signals.

—”What exactly are you hoping to find?”— Saruul asked as he looked out one of the armored windows.

—”If the patterns are consistent, I think the ancient inhabitants of Shambhala left behind automated equipment that still works,”- Altaa replied. -”Something connected to the Earth’s core. Perhaps a reactor that stabilizes the magnetic field.”-

—”That sounds like science fiction, Altaa,”- Saruul said with a sarcastic smile.

—”The Earth’s magnetic reversal was predicted centuries ago, and we were already at the limit. The idea of ​​a reactor is not so far-fetched,”- Altaa replied in a firm tone. -”We know that the Earth’s core generates the magnetic field through convection currents of liquid iron. If an ancient civilization understood that and had advanced technology, they could have created a system to amplify and control it.”-

Batu intervened from the driver’s seat.

—”What worries me is how advanced that civilization might have been. If they left something like that running for thousands of years, what other surprises might we find?”-

A silence fell over the group as they pondered. The idea of ​​Shambhala as a romantic myth seemed harmless when they were in Altan Nur. But now, surrounded by the unforgiving desert and the distant roar of storms, it felt all too real.

The magnetic storm crackled in the sky like a swarm of electric snakes, bathing the Gobi dunes in a flashing purple glow. The armored tank moved slowly forward, its caterpillar wheels sinking into the sand as if fighting an invisible enemy. The air was charged with static electricity; every time one of the expedition members touched the navigation panel, he received a mild shock.

In ancient texts and the oral traditions of Mongolian nomads, entry points to Shambhala were described with uncanny precision. Stories spoke of places where “the earth opens up and the sky loses its weight”. One such point was referred to as “The Dragon’s Mouth”, a canyon hidden in the Khongoryn Els Dunes, whose walls vibrated with a deep, rumbling sound during certain times of the year. Other accounts spoke of “The Eye of the Mountain”, a circular cave in the Altai Mountains that, according to legend, led directly to a network of tunnels that connected to the heart of the underground realm.

Altaa and his team studied these sites for weeks before deciding on their destination. The radio signal detected was strongest in the Khongoryn Els Dunes, and topographical data indicated the possible existence of caverns beneath the sand, accessible only during periods of low seismic activity.

The armored tank slowly advanced through the endless sands of the Gobi, protected from magnetic storms by a graphene shield and low-intensity electromagnetic pulses. It was a colossal vehicle designed to withstand anything from explosions to the corrosive desert winds. The roar of its engine was a constant reminder of how far the team was from civilization, but also how close they were to something extraordinary.

Altaa looked at the measuring instruments with a frown. -”The magnetic charge is increasing. If it goes up another two points, we’ll have to stop. It could overload the tank’s systems.”-

Enkhee turned to her. -”Stop here? You’re crazy! We’re in the middle of a desert with almost zero visibility. If we stop, we’re cannon fodder for the marauders.”-

-”I’d rather deal with marauders than a catastrophic vehicle failure,”- Altaa replied, adjusting the radiation sensors. -”Besides, the tank’s armor is designed to withstand ballistic hits, not to deal with prolonged geomagnetic storms.”-

Batu, the pilot, sighed from his seat as he focused on the slow pace of the tank. -”You’re both right. But if we want to survive, we need to find somewhere more stable. According to the map, there’s a canyon three kilometers to the east. We could take shelter there temporarily.”-

-”If we get there before those lunatics get to us,”- added Saruul, the biologist, as he adjusted the laser rifle he carried on his lap.

The Gobi Desert Marauders were groups of survivors who, after the collapse of civilization, became hostile raiders and nomads. These wandering clans, descendants of former refugees and inhabitants, were organized into violent tribes that attacked any expedition in search of resources, fuel and technology.

Dressed in makeshift clothing to withstand sandstorms and radiation, they used adapted vehicles and rudimentary weapons to ambush their victims. Some marauders believed in ancient prophecies and viewed the expeditionaries as intruders on sacred lands, while others acted only out of sheer survival. Their presence added constant danger to the Altaa team’s journey, forcing them to remain vigilant at all times.

The tank veered eastward, its heavy frame struggling against the blasts of sand that pelted it like bullets. Soon the first signs of the marauders appeared: small flashes on the horizon, as if someone were lighting matches in the dark.

-”Is that...?”- asked Oyun the drone pilot as he adjusted the visor on his helmet.

-”Yes,”- Batu confirmed, examining the radar. –”Five ... no, six vehicles approaching. Looks like they’re using dirt bikes.”-

Enkhee swore under his breath. -”They’re fast, and we’re an elephant in this tank. If they get too close to us, they might try to force their way through the hatches.”-

Altaa stood up from his seat and checked the automatic weapons mounted on the tank. -”Are the turrets operational?”-

Saruul nodded. -”Yes, but the storm is interfering with the accuracy of the targeting system. We will have to fire manually.”-

-”Then prepare for a surprise,”- Oyun said, with a tight smile.

The marauders appeared like spectres through the curtain of sand, their bikes illuminated by makeshift spotlights that bounced with their movement. They shouted and fired bursts of crude weapons, which, although ineffective against the tank’s armor, created an atmosphere of chaos.

-”To arms!”- Altaa shouted, as the first of the marauders got close enough to try to throw a magnetic grenade towards the tank’s wheels.

Oyun reacted quickly, firing a burst from the top turret. The impact caused the marauder to flip his bike, throwing him into the sand. -”One down!”-

Batu maneuvered the tank with precision, trying to shake off another attacker who had managed to jump onto the back of the vehicle. -”We have company up there!”-

-”I’m coming for him,”- Saruul said, drawing his plasma pistol and climbing through the rear hatch. From inside, Altaa could hear the scuffle and screams muffled by the sound of the engine and the storm. Seconds later, Saruul returned, covered in sand and sweat, but unharmed.